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wish—even if his ideas would likely bring death and destruction to her homeland; even if he was the man she'd admired for more years than she could remember. She was a soldier; she'd take life's blows like one.
    "Excuse me. I must go." Spine stiff, she offered all the people at the table a calm, respectful nod.
    Romjha stood, his stare pure fire, searing through the wall she'd erected in self-defense. Desperately, she tried to keep her private thoughts from him. She turned and fled.
    Only after she was out of the Big Room and sight did she double over, hugging her arms to her ribs as if she'd received a direct hit to the abdomen. "Blast you, Romjha B'kah!"
    She staggered to her bedroom, near the lab in the silent, rearmost area of the caverns. Her insides felt shredded, as if someone was thrashing open her heart. She fell near her altar to pray, as she'd done every morning and every evening for as long as she could remember. Her knees settled snugly into the well-worn hollows of a floor cushion. With a shaking hand, she lit candles under a half-dozen shallow bowls holding fragrant oils. The scents were said to please the Great Mother.
    To be on the safe side, Taj gathered extra bowls of oil and lit candles under each. She'd need the Great Mother to be in a receptive mood. Then, eyes closed, Taj bent her head and prayed.
    "May Romjha's death be painless and quick."

Chapter Eight
    Taj remained in silent meditation for some time. When she was through, she tapped a wand against a metal bell etched with ancient Siennan runes, sending her prayers to the Ever After, where her pleas would be considered by the Great Mother Herself.
    She'd done what she could. Now at least Romjha might be protected. At the thought of what the man intended, though, her ire began to grow. Gritting her teeth, she pushed past her heavy door and strode from her quarters.
    As Taj's anger took over, the thick ache in her throat and behind her eyes subsided. Her blood heated, her stomach burned, and she began to feel more like herself. Not good but more in control. Less vulnerable.
    "Ah. There you are."
    She jumped, startled, and spun around.
    Romjha's shoulders appeared to fill the entire tunnel as he walked toward her. "I feared you'd disappear to .
    . . wherever it is you go," he said.
    The spring. No, she wouldn't be going there tonight. The spring was her sanctuary, a place for when she wanted to escape the world—not for when she wanted to fight with it.
    He halted, looming over her. How did he do that? Men stood, they loitered, they even loafed; they didn't loom. "Go back to your dinner, Romjha."
    His mouth spread in a determined line. She should have learned her lesson from their encounter the day before, when she'd first asked him to bring her topside: Romjha B'kah did not take kindly to being dismissed.
    "If I'd wanted to remain at dinner, I would have done so," he said.
    "What, then? What do you want? Have you come for your apology?" She fisted her hands at her sides.
    "Here, I'll give it to you. I'm sorry I implied what I did about your family. I had no right. I—"
    "You had every right, Taj." His expression didn't change, but his eyes gleamed strangely. She wasn't sure she liked the fire burning in them. It'd be an impressive show if he loosed his wrath, but he didn't.
    She thought of stepping around him, but his tall, muscular body left little space to maneuver. "Please move aside. I have to work."
    "I had a feeling you were going to your lab."
    "You know me so well," she retorted contemptuously.
    The answering heat in his stare told her that perhaps he did indeed know her well. Too well. "You haven't slept yet. You've been working long enough, Taj. It gets to a point when it's dangerous. You're at that point."
    Her temper rose. "Dangerous?" she hissed. "Don't talk to me about dangerous. You, who praised the raiders for what they did yesterday. You, who dreams of taking on the entire galaxy."
    With a visible tamping down of his frustration,